Experimental Oneshots: Habanera
by Victoire Lupin
Summary: AU. Itachi Uchiha is a successful crime lord in New York. So why is a mere woman upsetting him so? Itachi/Female Kyuubi. Reviews, especially constructive criticism, greatly appreciated.


Song: 'Habanera', from the opera_ Carmen. _If you have Charlotte Church's version, you rock.

Challenge: My first AU fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. I don't own Habanera. I do own a very helpful towel rack, courtesy of Santa, but that's all.

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**Habanera**

Itachi was not happy.

And when Itachi was not happy, New York felt it.

Itachi Uchiha ran a very successful smuggling, drug-dealing, and assassination business in the Big Apple. His specialties were the crimes which had police all over the world baffled. Any bank manager would drop down dead at the mere _mention_ of the sum of money which was on Itachi's head.

Oh, yes. He was very good at what he did.

Except in one regard. He was currently working on taking over other crime organizations in New York to expand his power further. Araiguma Shikaku had grudgingly cooperated, as had Neko Ninbi. Both institutes were now part of Akatsuki, as Itachi's business was called.

But one woman who ran a highly illegal and unbelievably lucrative blackmail operation refused to be bought. Offer after offer had been made; he had even dispatched his best assassins to kidnap her. She had evaded them.

"Sir," his main assistant, Kisame said, "Go out and have a good time. You deserve a break. You haven't been yourself in weeks."

Itachi knocked back a shot of vodka unblinkingly. "You're right. Call me in an emergency. I'll probably kill you for disturbing me, but do it anyway."

He headed down the street, aiming for a nice Spanish restaurant a few blocks down. He was in the mood for watching the regular flamenco dancers who drew in the crowds.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're booked full," said the waiter at the desk. "Perhaps if you had reserved…"

"Look under Uchiha," Itachi growled, hoping that his revered name would have some effect. It did; the man's face changed. "Come right in, sir."

The paella really was remarkably good, Itachi thought as he complacently watched the Spanish dancers whirling around on platforms set up in the middle of the room.

"Fancy seeing you here, Mr. Uchiha."

He froze. He knew that voice all too well.

"I'm not going to be bought off, so don't even bother asking. But I thought it would be unforgivable to not come and greet a very fine crime lord."

He unwillingly turned to face the woman sitting next to him. Her deep, vibrant red hair and dark, dangerous eyes were offset nicely by her tight, long, black gown. The neck dipped dangerously, and a single ruby gleamed at her throat.

"And when I say fine," she continued, picking a flower out of the arrangement on the table and tucking it into Itachi's jacket pocket, "I don't mean in the 'talented at what he does' sense."

Itachi looked at the red-haired beauty, waiting for her to explain herself, willing his calm expression to persist for as long as humanly possible.

Kitsune Kyuubi leaned forward, ignoring the cleavage she was creating, and whispered in Itachi's ear. "I meant the _sexy_ sense."

Itachi felt his cool start to crumble. This was the true cause of his unease; for the past few weeks, this woman whom he was trying to cheat out of her work popped up whenever he was on break, flirting with him, forcing him to dance, even feeding him in one Italian restaurant.

And the worst part? He liked it.

A lot.

It felt like he was leading a double existence; in one life he, the crime lord, was hinting Kitsune down in order to steal her power; in the other he, the man, was currently dancing _very _close to that same lady.

The dancers had retired as he was finishing his meal, and some of the diners had begun to the dance to the Spanish music still playing. _She'd _forced Itachi to get up and dance with her, and they moved as one, now, bodies pulsing with the rhythm.

"I'll say again, you're a very good dancer," she told him as slower, more sultry music began to play. Itachi slowed down with her, and they began inventing their own dance, movements leisurely and seductive.

"A successful criminal must know how to act around polite company," he replied, sliding his hands to her hips. "And you."

She chuckled, lazily bringing her arms up to sling around his neck. "Look at the couple nest to us," she said contemptuously. "Starry eyed and ridiculous. They probably still think _love_ is the best, purest, most perfect thing on this planet." She shook her magnificent head. "Fools, that's all they are. Deluded fools."

"Well, what is love?" Itachi asked, allowing his hands to start drifting lower. She stopped him with one glare and thought a moment.

"Love is.. A gypsy child that can't be tamed. Me, I might love someone one day and hate them the next. It wanders away and then hits you again whenever it likes to. It's fickle and moody and enjoys completely possessing people, so it can laugh at their foolishness. A child, love is nothing but a tiny, cruel, mischievous gypsy child."

Itachi was silent, mulling Kitsune's idea of love over. "So you would never fall in love, if you have the inner workings so figured out?"

He wasn't necessarily asking if she would love _him_, he told himself. He was just interested in her answer.

Right.

"I think I'd still fall in love," Kitsune replied, staring straight at him. "Just not all the way. I wouldn't get possessed. But remember…"

She grabbed his hands and pushed them much lower than he ever thought he'd be allowed to go, leaned up and whispered, "If I love you, beware!"

And she was gone, vanished between the dancing occupants of the restaurant.

Itachi looked into the crowd, lips curling into a rare smile. He had to admit he didn't mind his double life as much anymore. It certainly had been the most physical contact he'd ever been allowed by _her._

He was rather looking forward to their next meeting.

But now he had to return to his other life, where he was working day and night to overthrow that wearisome woman.

_After all, Kitsune, _Itachi thought, smirking, _remember this; if I love you…_

He cocked his pistol in his pocket, slipped the usual bribe into the policeman's hand on the corner, and disappeared into the New York underworld.

_Beware._


End file.
